


I'll Be Good

by JayTyHeyBye



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Kind of fluff at the end, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Langst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Season/Series 02, Shiro is mentioned, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 07:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11286102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayTyHeyBye/pseuds/JayTyHeyBye
Summary: I'll be good, I'll be goodAnd I'll love the world, like I shouldYeah, I'll be good, I'll be goodFor all of the times that I never could.





	I'll Be Good

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I do this? Because I hate myself apparently lmao wHOOPS

_I thought I saw the devil, this morning_  
_Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue_  
_With the warning to help me see myself clearer_

Coran had made the alarm loud enough to break through Lance’s headphones. If the noise wasn’t loud enough, Lance could easily sleep through the entire day. That was ideal, to be perfectly honest, but apparently he had people relying on him and things he needed to do. Why did they rely on him? He didn’t bring anything special to the group. 

Everyone had something to be proud of. Keith was the leader now, but Shiro had been. Hunk could cook. Pidge was smart. Coran and Allura were the brains behind the operation. What did that make Lance? Nothing. 

Lance forced himself to sit up in his bed, removing his headphones and his sleep mask. He squinted as the light hit his eyes, and Lance mumbled a soft: “dimmer, please” to the castle, which obliged. The lights faded enough so Lance could open his eyes properly and look around the room. 

He pulled the thin blankets off of himself, all while swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His bare feet touched the cold tile floors, and for a moment, he let his feet get used to this new temperature. He was lucky enough that he wasn’t in any rush today. He could take all the time he needed getting ready. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Lance pushed himself to his feet, taking a moment to steady himself as blood rushed to his head. Shit. He shut his eyes, waiting for it to pass, and he didn’t realize he was holding his breath. When he was little and got a head rush, his Papa used to tell him that it meant he was dying, and he had to yell out at least one sin he’d done recently so God would take pity on him. That, of course, was bullshit. His dad just wanted to know if it was Lance who had taken the last cookie out of the cookie jar.

It had been. 

Despite knowing how stupid it was, Lance found that even now, every time he got a head rush, he would mutter some sort of bad thing he had done recently under his breath. 

“I told Keith he should shove his knife up his ass.” 

When he opened his eyes, the head rush was over. God had taken pity on him one more time.

As he made his way into his tiny bathroom attached to his room, Lance caught sight of himself in the mirror. He couldn’t help but frown. Running a hand through his hair, he looked himself over. He had bags under his eyes, and he knew exactly how sad he looked whenever he wasn’t smiling. He rubbed his own cheeks, sucking in a sharp breath.

He couldn’t help but wonder what would actually happen if he didn’t say a sin aloud next time he got a head rush.

God couldn’t take pity on him forever. Right?

 _I never meant to start a fire,_  
_I never meant to make you bleed,_  
_I'll be a better man today_

_I'll be good, I'll be good_  
_And I'll love the world, like I should_  
_Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good_  
_For all of the times that I never could._

He arrived to breakfast late, naturally. He was just pulling on his jacket as he came in, flashing the group a familiar smile. He took the empty seat in between Keith and Pidge. They had actually saved him a spot.

Pity, Lance told himself. They saved you a seat out of pity.

He sat himself down, rubbing his hands together as he smiled. 

“What are we having today, Coran? Oh, wait, don’t tell me, let me guess! More space slime.”

While Coran smiled, Keith huffed quietly from beside him.

“Can you not be a smartass for one minute, Lance?”

Normally it wouldn’t have gotten to him. Normally, he would have rolled his eyes and said some witty retort to Keith, but not today. He was too tired. He looked down at his plate as Coran placed it in front of him, and he fell silent. He faintly listened as Hunk and Allura quietly began to talk about something probably about how different space food was from real food, then Pidge chimed in about the scientific similar properties between the two, but Lance didn’t care enough to actually tune into their conversation.

By the time they’d finished eating, Lance was the first one to get up and leave. He tried to ignore the way his stomach growled, as no food had actually been eaten. He also tried to ignore Keith as he called out his name. The door slid shut behind him, and Lance shoved his hands deep into his pockets, also ignoring how they had begun to tremble. 

_My past has tasted bitter for years now,_  
_So I wield an iron fist_  
_Grace is just weakness_  
_Or so I've been told._

“Lance!”

Keith’s voice was what stopped Lance in his tracks. He glanced back at the other paladin, their current leader, and he tried to give him a smile. It was fake and forced, but Keith seemed to buy it. Lance at least hoped he bought it. 

When Keith caught up to him, he met Lance’s eyes. Keith had always been better at eye contact than Lance had been. Keith was better at everything than Lance was, it seemed.

“Want to come train with me?”

“Sure. Get ready to have your ass kicked, though.” 

Lance could have sworn he saw Keith crack a smile. 

Keith lead the way to the training room. He spent a solid 90% of his time there, and Lance figured Keith knew the route there like the back of his hand. He had always wanted to blindfold Keith and tell him to find the training room. He had a strong feeling he’d be able to find it. 

When they were inside, Lance pulled his bayard out of his jacket pocket. Allura had suggested they carry it around with them at all times. To be honest, Lance was still getting used to having the red bayard. It was weird. Keith pulled out his dagger, adjusting his grip on it before he looked back to Lance. He straightened himself up, getting in a fighting stance. Lance knew he was about to get his ass kicked. Part of him was okay with it. Keith flashed him a cocky grin, and Lance had to fight back the blush that was rising to his cheeks.

“You can have the first swing, McClain.”

 _I've been cold, I've been merciless_  
_But the blood on my hands scares me to death_  
_Maybe I'm waking up today_

Lance somehow managed to land a blow against the side of Keith’s head. They had been sparring for quite some time now, and to be perfectly honest, it had been an accident. Lance had just kind of swung wildly, and he was lucky enough that only the butt of the red sword hit Keith in the head, and not the actual blade. Keith fell back, crumbling to the ground as his weapon fell out of his hands. 

The black paladin hesitated before rubbing the side of his head, a quiet laugh bubbling in his throat as he reached for his dagger. 

“If only you could do that to Zarkon, maybe we’d have a-” Keith stopped short, actually taking a moment to glance back up at Lance. He immediately frowned, a minor wave of panic washing over him.

Lance was still standing there, but he had dropped his sword. It was laying on the ground by his feet. The Cuban boy was shaking, his face dangerously flushed, and his eyes squeezed shut. Keith could see the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, and he could see how Lance’s chest was heaving much quicker than it should be. Was he really that upset about hitting Keith?

Keith quickly pushed himself to his feet, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do. Lance hung his head, his entire body trembling as he struggled to keep himself from making any noise. How the fuck was Keith supposed to respond to this? After a moment he reached out, his fingers brushing over Lance’s shoulder. The other paladin roughly jerked away, but the sudden movement allowed a sob to break through his lips.

“Lance-”

“D-Don’t touch me.” 

Lance spun around, making a run for the door. Keith knew he had to do something.

 _I'll be good, I'll be good_  
_And I'll love the world, like I should_  
_I'll be good, I'll be good_  
_I'll be good, I'll be good_  
_For all of the light that I shut out_  
_For all of the innocent things that I've doubt_

He had just made it to the door when he felt cold, slender fingers wrap themselves around his wrist. Lance couldn’t help it. He struggled at first, but Keith’s grip kept him from actually getting away. His knees finally buckled, and as he fell, two arms wrapped themselves around his torso and kept Lance from full on crumbling to the ground. He felt himself being turned, and suddenly his face was pressed into the fabric of Keith’s black t-shirt. There was a hand resting lightly on the back of his head, while another hand was laying carefully on his back, moving back and forth slightly against the fabric of Lance’s coat. 

Lance thanked God that Keith’s shirt was black, and he wouldn’t be able to see the tear stains that were bound to soak into it. 

Keith simply held Lance for a moment, giving Lance a moment to process the situation. Finally, when Keith began to smooth down the back of Lance’s hair, Lance felt himself breaking. He let out a choked sob, his arms coming to wrap themselves around Keith’s torso, clinging to the other boy. Keith’s grip on Lance tightened, and for just a moment, Lance felt safe. 

“I-I’m s-sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m right here.”

For a moment, that was enough.

 _For all of the bruises that I've caused and the tears_  
_For all of the things that I've done all these years_  
_Yeah, for all of the sparks that I've stomped out_  
_For all of the perfect things that I doubt_

They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Lance was practically sitting in Keith’s lap, clinging to him like a child, whilst Keith held him, not making any sound. The only sound that echoed through the training room were Lance’s sobs, which were slowly beginning to get softer. 

All pride had been thrown out the fucking window. Lance nuzzled his face into Keith’s neck, craving the human comfort. The touch of skin on skin with another person. Closing his eyes, he felt Keith’s fingers still brushing themselves through Lance’s hair. The touch was grounding, in a way. It reminded him that someone was there. Someone cared enough to stay with him.

Keith smelt like a mixture of pine trees and almonds. He always had. It was nice, welcoming. For someone who looked like they could strangle you to death if they wanted to, Keith smelt amazing.

He smelt like home. 

Lance could feel Keith shift underneath him. Two hands were suddenly cupping his cheeks, and another forehead was being pressed against his own. Two thumbs wiped underneath his eyes, brushing away the few stray tears that were still falling every now and then. Lance took a moment to open his eyes. Keith was right there, a permanent look of worry etched into his features. Even now, Keith still looked angelic. 

“Talk to me, Lance.”

“I’m not good enough. For the team, for Voltron, for you-”

“That’s bullshit, Lance. We both know it. What would Shiro say if he heard you talking like that?”

Lance closed his eyes again. He leaned forward, and Keith seemed to understand what he was going for, because Keith pulled the other paladin back into another hug. His hand took it’s place back in his hair again, and Lance swallowed the lump in his throat.

He heard Keith sigh, his head resting against Lance’s.

“I’m here, Lance. I’m always going to be here for you.”

 _I'll be good, I'll be good_  
_And I'll love the world, like I should_  
_Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good_  
_For all of the times I never could._

Lance buried his face in the crook of Keith’s neck again. 

“I’m here, Lance. You can do this. We’ll do it together. I’m not leaving you.”

Keith was there. He wasn’t leaving. Lance’s fingers dug into Keith’s t-shirt, as if it was a silent plea to get Keith to hold him tighter. The arms around his torso tightened, and Lance snuggled further into Keith’s embrace. The crying had finally stopped, and the room had fallen into a comfortable smile. 

Keith was there. 

He was always going to be there.

It still hurt. His chest still ached, and there were still going to be times where he thought it would be better if he weren’t apart of the team, but this was something.

This was a start, at least.

 _Ooh oh oh_  
_For all of the times I never could._

**Author's Note:**

> I'll Be Good is by Jaymes Young and it's everything to me


End file.
